


When Bruce Met Clark

by winchesterfiesta



Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Movies), Superman - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Smut, e - Freeform, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesterfiesta/pseuds/winchesterfiesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne tells his parents the story of how he and Clark Kent got together, and the story of their relationship so far. (Quotation marks at beginning are what he tells his parents, underneath that is the story of what happened in more detail. It makes sense when you start reading it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Bruce Met Clark

“Those eyes. The first time they looked at me, it was like they were looking right through me. Focusing straight on his target.”

 

* * *

 

Clark’s gaze seemed to straight through him, piercing and pensive. Jaw set in a hard line. Azure darkening with absolute focus. It was all Bruce could do to clear his throat, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Bruce,” His assistant smiles politely, nudging him on the shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” He blinks, taking the glass of champagne that she proffers to him. Taking a swig, he swirls it around his mouth, “Who is that?”

She turns to see to whom he’s pointing, a smile spreading across her cheeks, “That’s Clark Kent. Reporter from the Daily Planet, you want me to get him over here?”

It appears, however, that her intervention isn’t wholly necessary. Clark turns at the sound of his name, gaze having softened tenfold when he meets Bruce’s eyes again. A shy smile creeps at the corner of his lips.  Though Bruce can’t entirely be sure that it’s not a combination of champagne and nerves that are making him imagine it.

“Sarah,” Bruce murmurs, “Take five. Enjoy yourself.”

Smirking, she nods curtly, “Clark Kent is a good guy, Bruce. Wouldn’t do you any harm to talk to him.”

Quirking her eyebrow at him, she disappears off into the crowd. Leaving him alone, nursing a half-empty glass of champagne and a stomach that seemingly bubbles with nerves. Since when did Bruce Wayne get all sweaty palmed over good looking male reporters? Clark is missing from his previous spot, Bruce denotes with some disappointment, looming somewhere that’s obviously out of view. 

It wasn’t that Bruce even wanted to come to this party. But he’d been invited, and having ducked out of rather a lot of social events lately, it’d been decided that he ought to show his face. Actually, decided made it sound like there’d been agreement on the issue. No, it was Alfred who’d accused Bruce of becoming a lonely spinster and sent him on his way.

“Mr Wayne.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he spots the speaker: a woman, curls falling wildly about her shoulders, red wrap dress that complimented both her figure and her skin tone perfectly. Olive skin against that particular shade. Looked good.

“Miss…”

“Jessica. You can call me Jess,” She extends her hand, meeting his somewhere in the middle.

He clasps it, shaking it briefly, “Jess. You can call me Bruce.”

“An honour I’m sure,” She grins, winking, exceptionally long lashes fanning across her cheek and vermillion stained lips stretching into a smile.

Usually he might entertain the idea of taking her home. She’d more than likely be willing, and that wasn’t just him being presumptuous: she jutted her arms so that her breasts were directly in his line of sight, twirled her hair around her fingers, laughed that sweet kind of laugh. She’d be good for a night. But that night just didn’t happen to be tonight.

“So what do you do for a living, Jess?” He wasn’t going to take her home, but he was lonely and damn, couldn’t he at least be polite? Kent wasn’t anywhere within obvious sight, and standing by himself hardly did wonders for his I’m-not-lonely-Alfred plea that he had going.

“I’m a reporter,” She purrs. Practically lapping up the attention, “I was wondering what it’d take to get an interview with the man himself.”

Her voice is laced with innuendo, but Bruce’s attention is stolen by movement at the other side of the room. Clark’s retreating figure. Head slightly turned, as if he’d just been looking over his shoulder. As if he’d just seen Bruce chatting with his lady friend. Lady friend, what was her name again? Jessica, fuck. She simpers up at Bruce with wide eyes, stroking along the length of his right arm and giggling.

“Feeling a little woozy? Had a little too much to drink?” She teases.

Clearing his throat, he chuckles awkwardly, “Set up an appointment with my assistant, Sarah, she’s uh, right over there,” He gestures in her general direction,  trying to resist the temptation to stand up on his tiptoes and try to see where Clark got to.

Her eyebrows furrow, briefly, though she seems to take the hint, “Got your eyes on someone, Mr Wayne?”

“Maybe save that kind of question for when you’ve got your Dictaphone handy,” He smiles, offering his hand, which she takes somewhat gratefully.

Hands intertwining briefly, she lets her fingers trace along the callouses of his hand before she allows his to slip away. She cocks her eyebrow, leaning just far enough forward that he gets the scent of her perfume. Presses her card into his jacket pocket, with a slightly mischievous grin, “Just in case your assistant loses her copy.”

He forces a short smile, “I’m sure she won’t. She’s very efficient.”

“I’m sure she is.”

She takes a slow step back, as if sensing that the battle here is over. He’ll give her the interview, figures that’s the least he owes her. Any other night and he might have taken her home, maybe even have taken her out on a date.

“It was nice meeting you,” He affirms, offering one final pleasantry and hoping to God that she takes the hint.

“Until next time.”

He can’t quite help but watch her walk away, sashaying slightly, as if she knows he’s watching. Although he only lets himself be distracted for a few seconds, then his mind is back on Clark Kent and where exactly he might hope to find him. He makes his way through the crowd, heading in the direction that he saw him going. Yet the bouffant of curls and squared glasses is nowhere to be found. Damn.  

Checking his watch, he sighs internally, he was going to have to be here for at least another hour before he could reasonably excuse himself. Being the CEO of the company meant that he couldn’t simply bow out at midnight because he had to be in work for 8 the next morning.

So, he amicably socialises and schmoozes with fellow CEO’s, reporters, businessmen, manages to entertain himself until Clark is almost out of his mind. Though his heart does jump a little anytime he catches a glimpse of curls out of the corner of his eye. A missed opportunity, he laments internally, allowing himself another glass of champagne when the waiter walks past, and delving back into his current conversation regarding his beliefs on climate change.  

Sarah waits until he’s on his own again before she makes her way over, “No sign of Mr Kent?”

“He left a while back I think.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

Bruce shakes his head sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t get the chance.”

“Well, just so you know, he was definitely making eyes at you. I’ll be setting you up for an interview with him if you’re not careful, Alfred’s right about you being a spinster.”

He simply shakes his head, murmuring under his breath. Luckily for him, she chooses to ignore it, sticking by his side as he bids his farewells and makes his departure known. The last thing he wanted was people thinking he was rude for ducking out before everyone else. Even if it was half one in the morning, there seemed to be people who had no intentions of leaving just yet. Thankfully, Sarah knew that there was only so much chewing over finances that Bruce could take, of a Thursday evening.

By the time he gets home, it’s past two.

Walking through from the garage, he’s half-expecting Alfred to be waiting up to greet him. When he makes it up to his bedroom unscathed, however, he figures that he’s pretty much set. And free from a lecture about his own loneliness, if only for the next six or so hours.

Bruce knows that he should go straight to bed, once he strips off his suit and changes into the much more comfortable slacks which were waiting on his armchair. He finds himself scooping his laptop up anyway. Starting it up. His fingers seem to itch with nerves. It’s just a google search. A simple google search, it’s not like it could turn up anything so wildly unexpected. That being said, he literally knew nothing about him other than his name and occupation. Guy could have been a convicted criminal for all he knew. No, Sarah wouldn’t have mentioned setting them up otherwise. He must be at least half decent.

Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Four words entered into the search engine which instantly ping back results.

A couple of pictures of the man himself: chiselled jawline looking impossibly _more_ defined, eyes so blue that it’s like the camera itself struggles to account for their vividness. That mop of curls, slightly unruly yet somehow looking perfectly teased into position. And the trademark glasses, thick and sitting right at the bridge of his nose.

When he’s finally able to tear himself away from the images, once again slightly dry mouthed, he finds a couple of sample articles posted on the publications website. Ones by Clark Kent.

He spends far too long leafing through them, pausing and reading through a couple several times. There are a few written about him, well Batman, puff pieces. Can’t help but chuckle to himself, imagining that Clark couldn’t exactly have been ecstatic about writing those. Nobody ever was.

Alfred finds Bruce in the morning, slumped against the pillows with the laptop beside him. Clark Kent articles still pulled up on the screen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment, bookmark, kudos, all the good stuff. Hopefully this'll be a good long series with plenty of smut and fluff (leave out the angst the world is angsty enough.)


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